


Wounded

by Cowardlykatz



Category: Destiny (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Genderless Guardian, Hunter Guardian, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Relationship, Near Death, Near Death Experiences, Other, Survival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-26 00:04:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12047121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cowardlykatz/pseuds/Cowardlykatz
Summary: Then Cayde-6 at last looked upon the Guardian and took in the sight before him. They wore tattered clothes, their faceplate had a large crack that ran down the middle (along with many other scratches), and the paint was finally chipping away. Left arm all but missing. His chest tightened, he can feel the loophole give way again, but his eyes never left the Guardian’s.“Oh Guardian. . .What have they done to you?”Then he was gone.





	Wounded

_Steady._

 

Two days after the attack on the Last City the chosen Guardian awoke. High-pitched alarms blared in their ears and errors flashed before their eyes. It took a piece of debris from a fallen building to help them stand. One arm hung limp at their side, ready to snap at any given moment. It took every bit of strength to amble forward. Each step was followed by a loud pounding that shook their entire body. Almost as if disconnecting with the Light made the world feel like it was a large drum.

Red Legion soldiers marched along the cracked and ruined sidewalk, weapons drawn but not raised. They were close, but not enough to notice the hunter moving slowly down the slope and into the murky water. One way was blocked by a burnt down building. Pressing on, past the soldiers, is the only option. Stopping is just an invitation to death. The hunter pressed their body against the walls for both balance and cover. Soldiers continued to walk past never once looking down into the open aqueducts. Without Ghost they can’t revive. Without Ghost they can’t call for help. Without Ghost they’ll never be able to speak to him or anyone ever again. Without Ghost -

“Guardian!”

The personal com-link clicked on. The quality distorted and distant. Then silence. Tanks and soldiers exited from a tunnel above, shining lights into open buildings and down into the open aqueducts. It took all of the hunter’s energy to crouch down behind a pile of debris. Have to keep moving. Have to get to Ghost.

“This is awful. . .awful.”

In the distance was a dim, blue light. The hunter is familiar with this light, it’s comforting presence and warmth. Standing back up the hunter rushed to that light, tripping over their own feet. Their heart ached and yearned for their companion - their _voice_. The voice who woke them up and sent them down on this path of righteousness. 

“This can’t be happening. . .”

Just a few more steps. They didn’t notice the way their speed picked up, splashing water just to get closer to Ghost. If only they could cry out, but all the hunter could do is extend a hand. To get Ghost’s attention. Until they lost their footing.

Once, they were focused on that bright blue light and the next - water. Cold, **red** water.

“Guardian? You’re alive. . .I thought I’d lost you.”

Hurt. That was what Ghost had been feeling in that moment when he watched his Guardian fall face first into the water, spinning and moving closer to them. The hunter felt warmth for the first time in a long time. The loud thrum ceased, but sensors still blared in the hunter’s ear. System failures, hull damage, internal and external failure. Pushing up off the ground, the hunter was finally able to breathe and reached a hand out to hold Ghost close to their chest, letting what little Light touch the symbol of the Last City. Reminding both that their home is gone. Forever.

“I can heal you, but I can’t resurrect you. Not since. . .”

His voice dies down, attention now drawn to the arm that looks like it could fall off any moment now. If it had happened just a moment ago, he could fix it. . .but the damage is already done. His Guardian is broken and there’s nothing he can do. All he can do is return to his Guardian’s mind, letting his voice and thoughts echo in their shared mind. To the hunter, it felt as if they found that missing puzzle piece. A missing link. Now, with most of the hunter’s strength returned, they take out the only gun on their person. Empty.

“Guardian. . .the Light is gone. They’ve taken the city, the Traveler. . .everything. The Red Legion is killing powerless Guardians. We have to get out of here.”

The Guardian nears a tall ledge, using their right arm (their only good arm) to pull themselves up and over. It took some time and a bit of encouragement from Ghost. If Ghaul was here to see this he would laugh down at them, spit in their face and push them off. Leaving them to die and rot in waters. Leave them to all to die in these ruins they once called Home.

“I’m picking up an emergency broadcast. Rendezvous coordinates. They’re evacuating the planet. We’re on our own. . .”

Coordinates flickered on the broken face-plate screen. The marker leads them up the hill and into the unknown.

 

_Breathe._

 

Resting against a wooden crate, the hunter watches the dark energy shift and dance in the fragment of the Traveler. A hand rests on a damaged shotgun. Loaded and live. The Guardian arrived at the Farm one week after the attack. One week they traveled through the mountains, constantly on guard and with a gun held up to their eye. Each sound made their finger itch on the trigger. Each body that came ambling around the corner made their entire body tense up.

Ghost tried everything. From shutting off motion detection to forceful power down mode. The only thing that seemed to help was talking. Just like he did when the two trekked through snow and dense woods. For now, he settled in the crook of his Guardian’s arm, emitting a low hum as he talk about anything and everything. The sky, humans before the traveler, space. . .home.

The closer they got to the fragment, the more Ghost realized that his Guardian was in no form to fight. Their arm had to be removed completely, not enough resources to fix an Exo. They were also exhausted and worst - afraid. These twisted creatures advanced more and more forcing the hunter to cower behind rocks with little ammunition. A Captain barked out orders, quaking the very ground with each shot to the rock. The hunter felt so small, so weak. Everyone at the Farm counted on them to come back with the Light, to end the Red Legion. One person against an army.

It was at this moment that all Ghost could do is watch. It was the first time Ghost had ever seen an Exo cry.

 

_Aim._

 

Moments had come up where the hunter actually felt like things were finally going their way. Reuniting with Ghost, the Farm, Kavala. . .and now Cayde-6. He floated just out of arm’s reach stuck in a Vex loophole. Ghost tried to get answers which pissed off Cayde-6 even more than he already was. The Guardian starred up at the man who trained them in the ways of being a hunter. To the Warlocks and the Titans, the training looked more like jokes. Glad that they chose the “right” path. To this Guardian, it taught them to cherish the life they were blessed with. To relax only when it felt necessary. To never back down even with a gun pressed against their head.

Then Cayde-6 at last looked upon the Guardian and took in the sight before him. They wore tattered clothes, their faceplate had a large crack that ran down the middle (along with many other scratches), and the paint was finally chipping away. Left arm all but missing. His chest tightened, he can feel the loophole give way again, but his eyes never left the Guardian’s.

“Oh Guardian. . .What have they done to you?”

Then he was gone.

 

_Fire._

 

Cayde-6 has known this Guardian for quite sometime now. No, not as long as Kavala nor Ikora, but enough to know a few important details. This Guardian is mute. Using Ghost to communicate their thoughts and feelings, though rare. Ghost did most of the talking. However, never once has he actually heard the hunter laugh at one of his jokes. In fact, it even surprised Ghost who listened to the breathy laughter. The way the lights flared in the small cracks in their faceplate made Cayde’s chest flutter. A strange, yet pleasant feeling. All he could do is rub his neck with a gloved hand, taken aback and unsure of what to even say.

“Congratulations Cayde, looks like you can cross that off your bucket list.”

There’s that voice again. Ghost always has to have the last word. When the Guardian began to walk away, he wanted nothing more than to reach out. To grab hold of that one good hand and never let go. Never once had he felt the need to worry about one of his hunters dying on him, not with the Light to protect them. But this Guardian faced hell and came back. Twice. He wondered if it would be selfish to hide them from the world around them, to hold them close to his chest and feel that Light that he craved so desperately for.

He could hear the Guardian's Ghost in his head, whispering how alone they were. How many times they came close to dying. Cayde-6 reached a hand up to touch a droplet on his cheek.

 

_Good to have you back, Guardian._

**Author's Note:**

> Constantly updating these stories.  
> Each time you read it, it shall be different in some way.  
> Thank you for taking the time to read this note.
> 
> Comments and kudos are appreciated.


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